21 october 2019
In Mist
There was a scream,
a howl. Something, somebody
had scuttled the platter.
You stop and frisk yourself,
and as if the red ants had
started coming out from your
eyes.
It wets the script. An apparition.
A dove flutters in the chest. A
fantasy, like you leave your body.
A window opens, shuts. Opens, shuts.
One vestigial flicker of the miasma
unsettles, the tree culture,
The undersides of the tongue becomes blue.
Do you know, you read
from the back side of the brain?
Have you heard the hindsight?
Yes, sometimes, means no.
3 october 2025
wiesiek
3 october 2025
Jaga
3 october 2025
ajw
2 october 2025
wiesiek
2 october 2025
wiesiek
2 october 2025
ajw
1 october 2025
ajw
1 october 2025
ajw
28 september 2025
Jaga
28 september 2025
absynt